


Lost

by phai6688



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Husbands, M/M, Prejudice Against Witchers, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28233840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phai6688/pseuds/phai6688
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier lose their memories for one day. A misunderstanding leads them to believe that they are married. What happens when they regain their memories?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 23
Kudos: 103





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm coming back to the fandom, and I'm trying to warm up with this fanfic. Please enjoy it!

The sun's rays burned through his closed eyelids, and he blinked himself awake with a groan. He laid in bed for several minutes, in that lazy state between sleep and wakefulness, feeling warm and comfortable. He turned over in his bed, and his head landed on something really hard and warm. He sleepily opened his eyes to see a man with silver-white hair lying next to him. 

He shrieked and jumped up from the bed, clutching the sheets to him. The man's eyes snapped opened, and he sat up. Thank the gods the silver-haired man had pants on! But after he examined the thick muscles on those arms, he kind of wished he'd been naked. He looked discretely down his own body and saw that he was wearing underwear only.

"What's going on?" The silver-haired man had a deep, gravelly voice that sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine.

Clutching the sheets fiercely, he said, "You're in my bed! Why are you here?" He wasn't about to let himself get seduced by handsome, well-built, bed-stealing strangers!

The man also stood up, looking around in confusion. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I-I don't know," he said softly. "I don't know what's going on."

"Well," seeing that the silver-haired man's confusion was genuine, he hoisted up the blankets and tried to sound friendlier. "We can start with your name. What is it?"

"I-" The man shot him a look of pure panic, "I can't remember!"

"What? Who can't remember their own name? My name is-" He paused, and the silence stretched uncomfortably in the small room. "I can't remember either!" He grabbed a fistful of hair with one hand, his breathing coming in faster. Who the fuck was he? It was a blank. He couldn't remember anything about himself. He didn't even know how he looked like! 

"Hm," the stranger actually calmed when he heard the news. He began to search around the room carefully. 

He took a few deep breaths and began to looked around as well. It was a normal little room with a large bed, a chair, and a table. No personal objects or decorations. "Um, what are we looking for?" He asked, uncertain of where to start.

"A cursed object, an empty potion bottle, something strange. We've been hit with a curse," the silver-haired stranger sounded so confident and intelligent that he relaxed even more. 

Surprisingly, he knew what the man was talking about. He searched the side of the room he'd woke on but couldn't find anything strange or cursed. He did find-

"My shirt!" He bent down to hold up a brightly colored tunic. "It's mine because it's my size," he said after holding it against his chest. He was tired of walking around with the blanket. He slipped it on. "One step closer to becoming normal," he grinned cheerfully at his sour faced companion. 

"Hm. There's nothing in this room. Let's see if there's more," the silver-haired man braced himself against the door opposite the bed and turned the knob. "Get behind me."

He nodded and slipped behind the broad shoulders of the stranger. A strong sense of deja vu came over him as the silver-haired man pushed open the door. 

"It's safe," he said shortly afterwards. 

He walked into a small, cozy room that had a fireplace, a two chair dining table, and a couch. The kitchen area, with an old stove, was separated by another doorway. The place was clean and organized but lacked any personal items. The silver-haired man began his search, and he knew that he would do a better job at finding the necessary items. Instead, he decided to entertain himself by reading the large letter on the table. 

He picked it up and quickly skimmed it. When he finished, he lowered it with shaky hands and a red face. 

"What is it?" The silver-haired man asked immediately, approaching him. 

He handed the letter to him, "I think I know our names and something else."

"Geralt and Jaskier," the man read out loud. "Jaskier is a strange name."

"It's a perfectly normal name!" He huffed and crossed his arms. The stranger, who really wasn't a stranger, chuckled, and he decided that it was the best sound in the world, no matter what his actual memories said. "Keep reading."

A short pause later, "Oh." The silver-haired man looked up at him with oddly colored eyes. They looked like amber drops of honey, soft and sweet.

"Yeah," he fiddled with the hem of his tunic nervously. "We're married."

"...Wow," the stranger said flatly. "I didn't think I would ever get married."

He blinked, "Are you remembering something?"

The silver-haired man furrowed his dark eyebrows then shrugged. "No, but it felt right to say." 

They stared at each other solemnly for a few minutes. His husband was sure handsome with his muscular build, mysterious scars, and beautiful face. He hoped his appearance pleased his husband, too. He quickly ran a hand through his hair. 

"So, Jaskier and Geralt. Which one is yours?" He asked after they've spent far more than what was normal examining each other. 

"Geralt," he chose without hesitation. 

"Ok. Then, I'm Jaskier! Nice to meet you," he held out a steady hand. Geralt shook it in a firm grip but didn't let go for longer than was polite. That was alright, Jaskier was still trying to process the feel of his calloused, cool hand in his. This was natural, he reminded himself. It was natural to feel attraction for his husband.

"You smell really nice," Geralt said after he finally released his hand. Jaskier cocked his head at his words. 

"I smell?" He looked down at his body. Shit, he should have checked if his shirt was clean. 

"It's a me thing, I think," he tapped the side of his shapely nose. "You smell familiar, good, so it makes sense that we're married. But," he sniffed at the air between them, "I don't think we've had sex yet."

Jaskier blushed fiercely. He coughed before answering, "Good to know. The letter did say we're newlyweds." 

"We've must have gotten hit with the curse on our first night here," Geralt looked up and down his body. "Too bad." He walked away to keep searching the small place. Jaskier's cheeks burned again, but a small smile tugged on his lips.

Geralt and Jaskier eventually concluded that they were in a small cottage in some rural area. It was a rental, but they were unclear how long they'd left. Geralt ventured outside and found a beautiful black horse who acted happy to see him. He had no idea what to call it, though, other than Black Horse. She carried strange potions and objects that Geralt knew he shouldn't touch unless it was necessary. Meanwhile, Jaskier kept looking indoors and eventually found the bathroom and two packs hidden in a closet. 

In the bathroom, he examined himself with a small mirror. He couldn't help but be a little disappointed at his appearance. He lacked Geralt's unusual looks. He had plain brown hair, round blue eyes, and an easy smile. He had very little scars and wasn't muscular, so he obviously wasn't a warrior like Geralt. He was glad that he looked very fit, like he exercised all the time. 

A search through their things confirmed what they already knew and didn't reveal anything new. Geralt had various weapons, potions, and very little else in his pack, while Jaskier had clothes, notebooks, and pens in his. Geralt took care of starting the fireplace, while Jaskier read over his notes.

"This sounds kinda good," he said after reading a section of his poem out loud to his husband. 

Geralt rolled his eyes, "You write poems about me?"

"No, it's not about-" Then, he took a look at the words again. The love of my life had snow for hair and the sun for eyes. "Oh," he said and wondered when he would stop blushing.

"I hope you're not performing things like that," Geralt said with a frown as he picked up his sword. For some reason, he had two of them. He still hadn't put a shirt on, so Jaskier frequently became distracted at the stretch and contraction of his muscles. 

"We must be a couple of opposites," Jaskier said dreamily and lifted his legs up to his chest as he sat on the fur rug near the fireplace. "You're a big, brave, handsome fighter or hunter, and I'm a writer or poet with some great fashion sense. We met, had incredible chemistry, and decided that our lives were much richer together."

"Or, we were horny and decided to save time and money by living and fucking together," Geralt said bluntly when he joined Jaskier on the rug. "We only have a few coins between the two of us."

"You're a realist, and I'm a idealist. Put us together and we're an unstoppable duo," Jaskier sighed as he watched the flickering firelight dance along Geralt's scarred skin. 

"And we still don't know where we live," he said with some tension. 

"Come here," Jaskier patted the spot next to him and stretched out his legs. 

Geralt hesitated for a second before crawling over to him and laying his head on his lap. Jaskier was momentarily stunned by the trusting action, but he argued with himself that he was Geralt's husband. Of course, they would act affectionate towards each other. With an unsteady hand, he carded his fingers through Geralt's silver hair. It was impossibly soft. 

"This is nice," Jaskier muttered. Up close like this, he realized how much bigger Geralt was than him, and it excited him. Actually, everything about Geralt excited him- his body, his looks, his voice, and his pragmatic personality.

Geralt's nose twitched, and he smiled slightly. Belatedly, he remembered that Geralt had a freaky sense of smell. He gritted his teeth when he began to blush again and said, "What are you so worried about?"

Geralt's smile dropped, and he let out a breath. "We still don't know who did this to us."

Jaskier shrugged and gently teased out a knot he'd found, "We're safe now. Maybe it's a temporary thing. Tomorrow, we'll wake up with our memories."

"Or, it could be watching us, waiting." Tension flooded Geralt's body, and he sat up abruptly. "I'm going to check the perimeter and make sure you're safe." 

"Um, alright?" A warmth settled on his chest at his husband's words. He watched Geralt produce a black shirt and vest and strap on his swords. "Please be careful, Geralt."

He stopped at the door, "Of course. Don't open the door for anyone, except me." He left. 

Jaskier sat back on the rug for several minutes, feeling pretty lucky that he had such a protective, talented husband when his stomach rumbled. Then, he thought that if Geralt was the fighting, athletic husband, then Jaskier must be the domestic one! Jaskier sighed, imagining their small, tidy home. He probably baked fresh bread for breakfast, cakes for lunch, and exquisite surprises for dinner. That was how he snagged someone like Geralt, he nodded to himself and stood up. 

With confidence and determination, he walked to the kitchen... and had no idea what to do. He picked up a pan and stared at it, hoping something would tell him how to make it work. He searched in the icebox and found very little food there, just some old bread and some jerky. His baking dreams were dashed. 

When Geralt came back, he'd found him still standing in the kitchen, staring at the mess he'd made. 

"Oh, can you cook, dear husband?" He asked hopefully. 

Geralt crossed his bulky arms, "No, I can't."

Jaskier's shoulders slumped. "Well, I can't either. We're going to have to buy something with the coin we have."

"There's a little town nearby," Geralt said, straightening up. "I heard it while I searched."

'Heard it?' Jaskier mouthed but verbally said, "Alright! Night out on the town!"

Geralt smiled at his enthusiasm. Excited for their outing, Jaskier insisted that they should look their best. They took turns bathing in the small bathroom and wore the best clothes they had, which were the same clothes they'd been wearing, before heading out.

Geralt and Jaskier rode Black Horse into town with Jaskier relaxing against Geralt's wide chest. Geralt tied up the horse at a post and helped Jaskier down. The townspeople gave them suspicious and down right unfriendly glances. Jaskier thought it was because they were two men, so he ran besides Geralt and grabbed his hand boldly. Geralt gave him a confused side glance but squeezed his hand. 

Amidst the stares and whispers, they wandered into a bar, hand in hand. They sat in a secluded corner after Jaskier ordered their food. At least, it was cheap. 

"They don't like us here," Geralt said worriedly as his golden eyes darted around the nearly empty bar. The few patrons who were there, curled their lips in disgust in their direction.

"It's a small town, people can be very closed-minded," Jaskier stuck his tongue out at a mean looking man who was staring at them. "Mind your own fucking business! I married a man, so what!"

"Jaskier!" Geralt hissed. 

"I'm not sure why we decided to honeymoon here," he replied with a shrug. He felt a rush of triumph when the asshole left.

Their food arrived, and both worked quickly to finish. Jaskier realized that he didn't know what to talk to Geralt about. He had no idea what his husband did, what his husband liked or didn't, or even how they met. 

In between bites, he said, "I like your eyes. They're pretty."

Geralt rapidly blinked said eyes and smirked, "I like your eyes, too. Blue is my favorite color."

Jaskier smiled broadly at the declaration. He was so happy about his blue eyes now! And he knew something about the man he married. 

"I wonder how we met. Why we married each other?" He said as he finished his meal. 

Geralt shrugged. "I hope we find out tomorrow."

"And go back home! I imagine a sweet little cottage nestled on the side of a mountain. Maybe with two dogs and a private garden," Jaskier gushed, waving his hands around animately. 

Geralt stood up, both of the having finished eating, and held out his hand for Jaskier to take. Outside, the brisk night air cooled their cheeks. "That sounds nice. I like dogs," Geralt said, almost shyly. 

"And I'll serenade you every night as you fall asleep," Jaskier was itching for his notebook right that second. The moonlight created an unearthly glow around Geralt's pale features and made his eyes look like they were glowing. All this needed to be captured in an epic poem.

The man snorted and glanced away, "You're definitely too romantic."

Jaskier opened his mouth to respond when they saw someone fall in front of them. The person was lame, and none of the other townspeople made an effort to help her. Geralt immediately let go of his hand and ran to the fallen woman. 

"Here," he helped her up by the hand. 

"Thank y- No, monster! Get away from me!" She shoved at his body, and in shock, Geralt let himself get pushed. "A Witcher! Someone save me!" She fell on the ground, sobbing, and tried to crawl away.

"Crazy hag! He was just trying to help you!" He pulled on his stunned husband's arm and bared his teeth at any of the townsperson who tried to near them, cursing something called a Witcher. 

When they reached Black Horse, Geralt finally spoke. "It was me. They didn't like me, Jaskier."

Jaskier's heart tightened at the sad look his husband gave him. "They're fucking demented. If anyone knew you, they would love you." Geralt was nice, protective, and a good person. He wouldn't have married anyone who wasn't. He didn't deserve any of what just happened, and it boggled his mind that the townspeople felt like they had the right to say things like to him. 

On Black Horse, Geralt and Jaskier rode back to the cottage in silence. Jaskier cuddled against Geralt's chest in an effort to comfort and a few times, Geralt nuzzled his head.

"What if I'm evil? I'm a Witcher, they said. What if that's a terrible thing?" Geralt whispered when they arrived. 

Jaskier turned to hug him around the waist. "I don't know what a Witcher is, and I don't fucking care. You're you, and that's amazing."

Geralt got off Black Horse and held out his hands for Jaskier. When he fell into his husband's arms, Geralt lifted him higher and carried him bridal style. "I'm not sure I ever did this." He carried a giggling Jaskier into their small cottage. 

After Geralt closed the door behind them, Jaskier slid down his body slowly and stared up at those inhuman eyes with his hands on his husband's taut stomach. He didn't know who moved first, but they were suddenly kissing each other desperately. Geralt's kiss was rough and claiming, and Jaskier wanted more. He wrapped an eager hand on the back of his neck and the other wandered over his chest. 

"Jaskier," his husband murmured against his lips, "I want you to smell like you're mine. Will you let me do it?"

Jaskier couldn't answer, he was so aroused at the idea of belonging to Geralt. He whimpered and ground his body against his husband's hard form. 

Geralt kissed his way down his neck. "My husband," Geralt whispered tenderly against his overly sensitive flesh. 

"Yes," Jaskier finally gasped. "I'm yours. I want to be yours." He pulled Geralt down for another kiss. 

He wrapped his legs around his husband's hips when Geralt lifted him again and walked to the bedroom. There, Geralt carefully laid him on the bed. They spent sometime caressing and exploring each other as they slowly removed each article of clothing until they were completely naked. It felt new and wonderful to both of them, and they savored each discovery they've made about the other's body.

When Geralt pushed his oiled erection into his husband, it felt like coming home. He whispered words of praise and affection into Jaskier's ears as he gently rocked into him. He picked up the pace once his husband tightened his legs around his waist and moaned for more. He wanted to give everything to Jaskier, to show him how grateful he was to the vibrant man for choosing him to be his husband.

For Jaskier, he knew that there was no one else for him but Geralt. The man was everything he didn't know he wanted in a lover and a husband, and Jaskier thanked every single fucking god that he'd married someone as internally and externally beautiful as him. 

"Geralt, I love you," he panted as he entangled their fingers together. 

"Jaskier," he bent down to taste his lips. "Me too."

They climaxed together and fell asleep wrapped up in each other's arms, smiles on their faces. 

The rays of the sun burned through Jaskier's closed eyelids, and he blinked himself awake. He laid in bed for several minutes feeling safe and comfortable. He shifted and noticed that his head was on something hard and warm. And there was a strange, unfamiliar ache coming from his ass. He sleepily opened his eyes to see Geralt's sleeping face.

Everything flooded back. The hunt, the strange gas that disappeared after Geralt killed the monster, the innkeeper who gave them the honeymoon cottage as thanks, and what happened afterwards. 

Shit, shit, shit! He fucked his best friend. 

He must have made a noise because Geralt's sleepy golden eyes were on him. "Jaskier," he said tenderly, making the Bard want to cry. Then, his eyes widened. Geralt sat up, letting the blanket pool around his waist. "Jaskier," he said with shock in his voice.

They stared at each other for a few seconds. "So, did you like the married life?" Jaskier joked, trying to smile. 

Geralt remained silent. 

"I never thought I would ever get married," Jaskier nervously kept talking, trying to fill the silent void with words. "And I never thought I would get married, or fake married or not really even fake married, to another man. I thought I was a boobs guy, not," he curled his arms to micmic Geralt's muscles. "But it was cool, it was fine. I mean it was better than fine, it was mind-blowing. Unexpectedly, mind-blowing. And can you say something, so I can stop, please?"

"Jaskier," Geralt said gravely. "This was a mistake."

Jaskier felt the ground underneath his body shift, and he had to lean back on his elbows to steady himself. He found himself nodding, "Yeah, that makes sense. We were under a spell thing. Memory-loss happened. We fucked. Had some amazing sex. Yeah, it was a mistake. I forgot it already." He stood up from the bed, naked, and didn't care because his hus- Geralt already saw and had everything he had to offer. 

He got dressed hurriedly and left the small bedroom, feeling claustrophobic. He gathered his things and went outside to wait with Roach. 

"You couldn't have warned us?" He scolded the impassive horse. He sighed and leaned his forehead against the horse's warm flank, "What the fuck am I going to do?" He straightened up when he saw Geralt approach. 

"How are you feeling?" The Witcher asked him gruffly. 

Jaskier smiled thinly at Geralt's attempt at asking about the state of his ass. "Great, let's go." He refused Geralt's hand when the man tried to help him onto the horse. He was startled when Geralt settled behind him, instead of in front of him as he usually did when they were forced to share a ride.

As they rode away from the cottage, Jaskier couldn't stop himself from leaning against Geralt's chest and breathing in his scent of leather and forest. 

_Geralt, I love you._

_Me too._

He cried.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/Comments/Bookmarks are my writing fuel! They keep me motivated.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
